Asylum
by aw.twilight
Summary: Alice's Story
1. PROLOGUE

Asylum

Prologue

I had been running for so long that the cool stone floor felt good underneath my exposed, overheated limbs. Seven hours running barefoot in the wet, July heat had pulled every bit of strength from me. As the sweat slowly melted away the exhaustion, my hair stood on end, starting at the tops of my ankles, wrapping its way around my legs, and crawling up my spine, until the back of my neck was alive with sensation. I shook off the chill and sat up too quickly, forcing the blood away from my head, without giving my eyes time to adjust. I pushed my head back against the wall to steady myself, before shutting my eyes and crashing into another wave of darkness.

When I opened my eyes again, I took stock of my situation. I was in a brick cell with no windows, only a steal door that let in a sliver of yellow light through the eye slit. As the reality of my situation set in, I realized that Everett was right. It didn't matter how far I ran from them. He told me the others would find me, and find me they did. What I wouldn't give to go back and accept him when he first invited me into his way of life. It seemed foolish now that I ever feared him, that his golden eyes and solitary way of life had ever disgusted me. It had been so long since I felt protected, since anyone had cared about my well-being as he had. If I only knew it at the time, what a foolish girl I was! I stopped myself from dwelling any further on the past. The only way to get out of this was to look ahead.

I slowly stood up, pulling my hospital gown around my thin frame to keep the cold out. As I stood up, I felt the pain coursing through my body for the first time since the adrenaline had worn off, and I reached my broken and muddied fingers up to my face. My cheek was swollen, and I could taste blood in my mouth. Knowing what I would find, I reached in, and pulled out the nearly dislodged molar, wincing as the last few ligaments tore away. As I turned to spit out the blood, I looked down at my feet and saw that my toes were black, and my soles has been stripped raw. I had been beaten badly, but if I bided my time, I had enough strength left in me for one last fight, but only if I prepared.

I went about snapping my broken fingers into place, taking a deep breath as I forced each bone back into its joint. Searing pain shot from the tips of my fingers to my elbow with every bone I set back and I called out in agony to distract myself from the blinding pain. I set to work ripping the remaining sleeve off my cotton gown and using the thin shreds to set the breaks. I cursed myself for forgetting that his skin would be so unbreakable. If I had remembered, I wouldn't have wasted my time defending myself; he remained unscathed, and I was almost entirely physically broken. The memory of his eyes boring into mine, the bent smile that crept across his face when he found me, I shuttered to think what would happened if he wasn't commanded to bring me back alive. I pushed the thoughts of him from my mind and continued examining my malnourished body. Using my left hand I pushed in my chest, using my unbroken fingers to feel for anything swollen or shattered. The hunter had bruised me badly, but I wasn't bleeding. I lifted my gown to look at my legs. They were discolored and bleeding, but nothing was broken, and I could make it through the pain.

I sank back down to the ground, my knees aching with the bend, and I wrapped the remainder of my sleeve around my swollen ankles. After I'd been crudely bandaged, I realized that Everett had not coming looking for me. Even if he had tried to find me, he had not gotten here in time. I would not blame him for this, however it was to turn out. I had seen this; two days ago, I had seen this future coming. I knew I would be in this cell, physically battered, waiting on a decision that I no longer had control over. I had my chance, and I wasted it thinking I could flee. I grimaced at my own arrogance.

Everything had played out as it was meant to, I knew that now. I knew in this stone prison, that I would truly never be without the visions that had torn me away from everyone I loved. My guilt swelled in my chest, reminding me that I should not have run from Everett; I should not have left him. I fought back the tears, as the footsteps coming down the hall were silenced.

The hunter had returned, his red eyes cutting through the darkness. A verdict had been reached, and I was summoned. I would face the Hierophant, and I would do it without Everett by my side. May God protect me, may he forgive me for what I was to become.


	2. Chapter 1

August 1919

CHAPTER 1

"Emory Brandon, do you not understand the concept of 'get down'? " hollered Mama, standing underneath the magnolia tree in the front yard, her faded dress clinging to her arms in the damp heat. The forty foot tree towered over the house, shading it from the hot Mississippi sun.

"I surely do not!" he echoed back, each word hitting her ears like rocks berating an old dog. "I'm not cleaning a single stall until I can take a break for five damn minutes. I've been on my feet sowing all day!" He leaned back against the trunk of the tree; his tired limbs hanging at his sides.

I put down the corn I was shelling, and wiping the sweat from my brow, I looked up at Ma before calling out to Imogene to help me on the porch. The afternoon had dragged on with its sweltering heat, and she'd barricaded herself on the roof to avoid the stiff air in the house and ruckus of the young, twin terrors. Having only three bedrooms to hold eight people, the house got crowded fast, so the roof was a welcome escape. In the beginning, after my parents moved into our farm on the Wolf River, 30 miles outside of Biloxi, the house had been everything my mother had ever dreamt of.

With its rusted, green, copper roof and matching shutters, it looked like a farm house ought to look. The siding my father had so vigorously painted white every year, at the insistence of my mother, flaked off at the end of every winter. The front porch was large enough to act as a surrogate bedroom in the dead of summer. Before Elias was gone and Cynthia was born, the five of us children used to lie on the faded floorboards trying to catch a breeze coming off the river as we lay on our quilts looking for sleep, huddled together in spite of the heat. When school was out, in the midst of summer, we had no one but each other for company, and despite the bickering, we enjoyed the closeness that only the summer could bring.

The brick columns that supported the hutch over the porch had not given in to time and held up as strong as they had when they were first mortared together in the 1870s. This was our uncle's house once, and with no children to leave it to, it passed to my mother and her farmer husband. The rest of the Brighton family had not understood why my mother, their youngest daughter, had chosen this life of labor, but she had chosen to marry for love and try as they might, they could not deny her that. Six children later, she had lost all semblance of her former wealth and could not be mistaken for one who was not born into this life.

Behind the house was our farm. Stretching out for 10 acres, it held nothing but soybeans and the small patch our mother carved out for our own crops. No one escaped the toil farm life requires. At present, Ma tends to the kitchen and the vegetable garden, Emory had taken up Elias's job of sowing and planting while Pa tilled the fields. The twins used to tend to the chickens but were recently demoted to scaring off the rabbits and pulling weeds. I had the unfortunate task of keeping them in line and making sure the rest of the animals were tended to. Imogene, Elias' widow, kept mostly to herself with the sewing and the housework. She never had much of a family, and after Elias died, she had no choice but to come live with us. Despite being with us this past year, she still preferred the quiet of the roof to any other part of the house.

"Imogene, get down here and help me with the corn!"

"What in the hell for? If I recall you volunteered to fix dinner!" she called back, her frustration clipping the words harshly. She leaned over the edge of the roof to glare in my direction, her red hair catching in the breeze teasing the edges of her round face, looking more like my mother's daughter than I did.

"I did volunteer, but I was hoping I'd have the pleasure of your company. Besides, you either get down here or I teach the twins how to get on the roof. They've been at me about it for weeks." I knew full well that nothing would make Celia and Abram happier than climbing on the roof. The prospect of possible, but unlikely danger, with the added bonus of torturing our sister-in-law, made it all the more enticing for them. They were the second set of twins in our family, coming into the world eleven years after Emory and I, and sixteen years after Elias had. I smiled at the thought of Elias, our beautiful Elias. He would have been 23 this past Christmas. It was easy to tell why Imogene had married him. With his dark hair, piercing blue eyes and pointed jaw he looked the way a man should. Ma said every girl in the county was after Elias, just as they'd been after Pa when he was young and in the end, it was Imogene who captured his heart. They married in March of 1918 and less than six months later, Imogene was widowed.

When Elias passed, Emory took up post as the oldest brother, holding the family together after the accident. Emory was an uncanny copy of Elias, though his face was rounder, as he had yet to fully shake off his childlike softness. Before the twins came, when it was just the three of us, Ma took us to have a photo taken, her three dark haired blue-eyed beauties. Pa used to joke that there was no denying he was our father, as his black hair and strong cheekbones were found in all of us. Until Celia and Abram were born, Ma thought she'd only ever passed on her blue eyes, which she gave to all of her children. The pair of them were the spitting image of my Ma in her youth, inviting comparisons whenever we went into town.

Ma, only Pa called her Mae, was a short woman, coming only up to the middle of my father's chest. With her red hair and freckle stained cheeks, Pa called her his doll, cradling her close whenever they could steal a moment away. Ma used to say that Pa was her cowboy, his face creased from hard living, his hands toughened by a lifetime of labor. Mae and Clinton complimented each other, both of them finding in each other what they couldn't find in themselves. After Cynthia was born, they finally had the family they'd wanted since they'd been married, a gang of boys for Pa and two girls for Ma. Even with the loss of their oldest, they never let it come between, and as awful as it had been, the passing of Elias had brought us closer together.

Even though she loved her oldest children, beaming with pride whenever she was with us, deep down Ma always wanted her red-haired babes and she finally got them when the twins were born. Cute as they'd been for the first year, the second they could pull themselves up they caused nothing but trouble. She blamed their antics on their ginger hair, always shaking her head and muttering, "I never had trouble with the three of them" while she was cleaning up their messes. Since no one else was ever surprised by their wild ways anymore, the twins were left only with Imogene as an unsuspecting audience, but that too was growing old.

"You wouldn't dare let them up here!" Imogene sneered back at me.

"Watch me! I don't reckon there's another place in the whole house they can't get to, so, you'll never be rid of them." The twins grew gleeful with the prospect of someone else to "play with" and put their heads together to plot. I think I heard something about a catapult in between all of their hushed chatter.

"Dammit, Alice! I heard them say catapult! Look what you did!" Imogene shouted back.

The fact that she wanted nothing to do with the twins made them enjoy pestering her even more. I always seemed to forget to tell her that if she just played with them for once they'd leave her alone. Somehow, it always slipped my mind. Something about two seven-year-olds chasing after a full grown woman was too entertaining to pass up.

"Alright, alright, relax will you! Celia! Abram! Get over here and help me with the corn. You aren't getting on the roof today. After 'operation chicken freedom' you still haven't shown you can handle being responsible," I said choking back tears of laughter at the memory of the pair of them and their attempt to free four dozen egg-laying hens from "slaughter." They knew full well we wouldn't eat them; the red-headed wonders just wanted a weekend adventure. They begged for weeks to be able to handle the coop all on their own, and the second I let them, I earned four hours wrangling angry chickens.

"Fine, Alice, we don't need your help!" Abram turned his head toward the tree scanning for his older brother's face "Emory, can you help us build a ladder?" Abram whined out, holding out hope that his plans of mischief wouldn't be dashed before they got off the ground.

"Yeah, Emory, we have important stuff to do on the roof," threw in Celia for good measure. Imogene hollered in their direction and they ran to the backyard to gather what I can only imagine to be "supplies." Emory's deep laugh waved its way down through the leaves, bringing a smile to my face and a flush of rage to Ma's. How I loved that brother of mine. Pa used to joke that the two minutes we were apart, waiting for me to make my appearance in the world, were the last two minutes of peace he ever had. He wasn't just my twin brother, he was the other half of me, and everybody knew it.

"Emory-Scott, Mary-Alice, you will stop getting them riled up, so help me Lord! If those twins get on the roof, we will never get them down, and having one Brandon in a tree is enough trouble for one day, thank you very much." said Mama, one hand pointing in my direction, the other wrapped around Cynthia holding her ten-week-old frame close.

"Honest, Ma, I just want help with the shelling. Would I ever try to make things harder for you?" The barely contained smirk was not lost on her, and she glared in my direction. Emory laughed in my direction, before Ma started back up again.

"Clinton, will you get out here and mind your boy? Abram, what are you doing with that shovel? Celia, where did you get that dog? You have to the count of three to put that thing down! CLINTON!" she roared through the yard.

Pa stepped through the front door onto the screen-in porch. With his hat pulled low over his eyes, and his coveralls muddied from a day's labor, he looked every bit the southern farmer he was.

"Mae! Are you trying to raise the dead? Why do I always have to come home to the next Great War?" he said, equal parts humor and exasperation in his voice, before turning up to find Emory in the tree.

"Emory, are you trying to get out of cleaning the stalls? I may be old, but I can still make it up that damn tree and pull you down with me! You already had a break this afternoon; don't act like I didn't catch you napping in the barn!" At the sound of Pa's voice, Emory's feet disappeared from sight as he made his way further up the branches, deeper into the mass of twisted limbs and overgrown leaves.

Futile as she knew it was, she wouldn't have been Ma if she didn't try. "Emory, you get the hell out of that tree, before I make you cut a switch!" she bellowed through the humid air.

Pa just shook his head and laughed at the idea of my four-foot-eight-inch mother wailing on the behind of her six-foot son. "Mae, what are you going to do after he gets the switch? You haven't been able to put him over your knee since he was ten years old!"

"Ma, he's two feet taller than you. No way he's cutting you a switch." I shot back, secretly hoping she'd at least try to get him over her knee.

"I'm eighteen years old! If anyone's gonna be teaching me a lesson…" Emory started until he was cut off by a sharp ringing that set my teeth on edge. I turned to find the source and realized that it was in my head. Before I could give it any thought, my lungs forced a shout, and I felt my legs give out under me, my arms desperately gripping the sides of wooden railing to keep me from collapsing. Everything got so heavy all of a sudden, my arms couldn't grip anymore and my eyelids wouldn't stay open. Before I was swept into the darkness, I saw Emory hit the ground. Twice.

I woke with a start, pulling the quilt off my sweat soaked body. It was dark out; the air still and heavy. I tried to piece together the afternoon but was interrupted by a rustle in the bed.

"How's your head?" asked Imogene as she turned over next to me, her voice tense.

"I don't know. I haven't figured that part out yet. Who put me in bed?" Then, like a freight train, it hit me, "Where's Emory? I saw him fall." I left out how many times. "How is he?" The sudden realization that he was hurt pulled all the air from my lungs and twisted my stomach in knots.

"I put you in bed. Figured you didn't want to sleep on the porch. Emory's with your Ma at the infirmary. He's all bandaged up. Won't be coming home for at least six weeks, not till the bones in legs set back, Doc said," She said it as more of a fact than a point of concern. "He had no reason to be that high for just a rest. What is it with Brandon boys and the need to go finding pointless danger?"

"I think Celia would be mighty upset to be left out of the thrill-seekers category," I said absentmindedly trying to catch my thoughts. I realized she only said Ma was with him. "Where's Pa?"

"Your Pa went back to the fields. The sight of Emory sprawled out in the yard and all that blood everywhere reminded him of Elias." Imogene caught her breath before she began again. "You could just see it in his eyes. He's the only one that misses that boy like I do." She twirled her wedding band absent-mindedly around her finger.

"Don't you dare say that. We _all_ died that day," I glanced at her with enough venom that she lowered her head and changed the subject.

"How you holding up little-miss-faint? I've never known you to be queasy, passing out like that soon as he fell. I thought you were like the rest of the legendary Brandon, damn near fearless to the point of stupidity, but then Emory goes and falls out of a tree and you go to pieces. "

I tried to force down the lump in my throat but it stayed right where it was.

"Dammit, Imogene! Give it a rest. Picking at me all the while won't make anything better, and it sure as hell won't bring Elias back. If it did, I'd have let you scream at me until you went hoarse."

Her eyes scanned the ground as she tried to find the words but she never had the time. A high scream rushed through the hall, and with it, Imogene glared at me.

"Alice! Look what you did, hollering like that, now Cynthia's awake! The twins will never sleep through that. I'll never get them back to bed, still too damn riled up from yesterday anyhow; might as well start breakfast." She swept out of our room, the dull thud of her feet marking the floor.

I grimaced and tried to pull myself out of bed. The clock said it was five am; too late to go back to sleep, too early to want to do anything productive. I gave up trying to move. Instead, I lay still, enjoying the silence, and tried to piece together yesterday, before I realized that the ringing in my ears was back.

Though it only happened for the first time twelve hours ago, I now knew what was coming. I would see something again, something no one was meant to see and I didn't want this thing, this vision, to take control of me again. I fought to keep my eyes open, to keep from falling back into the darkness. I moaned in frustration as everything went hazy, but this time I wouldn't let my body go weak.

Everything played out as if I was there, seeing it firsthand. There was Emory, laying on a bed, Ma asleep over him, her hand clutching onto his arm just above his tightened fist. Emory's face was twisted in pain, his arm had been set, his shoulder had been shattered, and his legs were bound, but this was not what made him twist in agony.

There was blood on the sheets, too much blood to be from a wound that could just be bandaged over. Emory was too weak to call out, and he just slipped into the black. Wrapped in plaster, he never moved. Ma never woke up in time, and she never forgave herself. Pa couldn't stand losing another son, and he was never the same.

With the image of Emory lying still, never to move again, looming in my mind, I forced myself out of the vision and called for Imogene. I had no idea if I had mere seconds as I had yesterday before my vision came to pass, or if I had enough time to change what was to happen, but I had to get to Emory, and I had to do it now


	3. Chapter 2

Endeavor

CHAPTER 2

I leapt out of bed, my toes finding the floor before the rest of my feet. I pushed the lingering pain from the vision to the back of my mind and sprinted down the stairs, adrenaline coursing through my body. Before I made it to the doorway, I yelled for Imogene, panic heavy in my voice. "Imogene! I'm going to Emory; watch the kids," my lungs barely finding the strength to push out the words.

She called back from the kitchen, "Emory's fine, Alice! Don't you dare take that car!" her words followed me over the lawn. I ignored her and ran for the shed, pulling the wooden door open before scrambling into the front seat of the model T. I cranked the engine as fast as I could and shoved the car into gear. The car broke through the mist rolling in off the nearby river as it lurched down the beaten path into town.

Shifting into second gear, the car roared to life as I slammed on the gas, the wind cutting into my eyes and whipping my hair into my neck. The dirt road wound into town, following the path between the river and the maple trees. I glanced down at the seat next to me and picked up Emory's faded fedora and slammed it onto my head, keeping my hair out of my eyes.

With nothing to distract me during the ten-mile drive, all I thought of was Emory. Somehow, I knew that I wouldn't have seen him dying if I wasn't meant to save him. I had to get to him in time, no other option existed. Without Emory, there would be a hole in me that couldn't be patched, a wound that wouldn't heal. He was the only person that understood me, the only person I could never surprise.

When we turned ten years old, Ma gave me my own room, so I wouldn't have to sleep with Elias and Emory saying, "It's not right for a young lady to sleep with her brothers." After a month of sneaking back into the boys' room, Ma just gave my room to Elias. She knew that we would never be separated, that some unspoken invisible bond had been made and couldn't be broken. After I moved back into our room, Emory and I cut our palms to seal our bond in blood, ignoring the fact that we the same blood flowed in both our veins. When Elias died, we saw how easily broken everything was and vowed to stay together, regardless of what the future brought. Thinking of our promise, I jerked the wheel to the right and barreled into town, the tires crunching over the unpaved road, leaving a trail of dust in our wake.

When the infirmary came into view, just over the hillcrest, I slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the T before the car stopped moving. I ran over the gravel path, wishing I had grabbed my boots before I left the house, and took the stairs two at a time until I reached the porch that wrapped around the first floor. I ran the seven steps to the front door and threw it open, shattering a window when the handle crashed through the plate glass.

"Where's Emory?" I demanded of the nurse at the front desk.

"Wait just a minute, miss, you can't just..." I cut her off before she had time to finish.

"Listen to me! Where is Emory Brandon!" the fire in my eyes matching the urgency in my voice. She glanced down at her clipboard, before pointing down the hall. "Room seven, on the left." I took off, leaving her bewildered in the hall.

My bare feet slapped the floor as I made it down the white tiled hallway, my eyes searching for Emory's room, my ears ringing the whole way. As I put my hand on the brass handle to turn the knob, I collapsed to my knees. I screamed and threw my hands to my eyes, before I made it inside.

The vision started with my bursting into the room. Somehow I knew what medicines I had to give him; I knew where he had to be cut. There was no time to question what I had seen. How I knew these things was a mystery, but I was sure that I could save Emory. The vision came to life as I thrust the door open, and rushed to his bedside. Knowing I had to get my mother out of the room, I shook her awake and told her to get the doctor, that something was wrong with Emory. Her weary eyes searched my face for explanation, but the urgency in my voice left little to be debated. By the time I turned back to Emory, I heard her footsteps rushing out of the room. Emory was still unconscious, he looked almost peaceful wrapped in all that plaster, and that would make this part of the plan easier. Though I saw what I must do, it didn't make it any easier to carry out. He already looked so weak lying on the bed, it killed me to know I'd have to hurt him, hurt him to save him.

I went to the cabinet against the wall and pulled open the top drawer, grabbing tools whose names I didn't know, but whose purpose I had seen. Pulling the tray stand to me, I filled it with instruments and pulled a pair of gloves onto my hands. I moved to the left side of the bed and pulled Emory onto his stomach. I grabbed the scissors from my tray and made quick work of cutting through the dressings wrapped around his ribs. When I finished cutting, I pulled back the gauze and saw that his skin was already purple and bruised from the blood pooling underneath. I grabbed a blade and took a deep breath before slicing into his skin.

As the tip punctured the skin just below his ribcage, blood rushed out over the bed and onto the floor, staining my nightgown and my legs. By the time I finished making my cut, Ma rushed in with the doctor.

"Mary-Alice what have you done? Why is he..." she gasped, running to my side, her hands tangled in her hair. "What have you done to Emory?"

"Ma, you need to be quiet now. Doctor, something inside must have burst. He was bleeding under his skin. He needs help I can't give him." My urgent but quiet tone set the room on edge. The doctor grabbed a pair of gloves and rushed over to the bedside before I was finished talking.

"My God" he exclaimed pushing two fingers into my incision, feeling around for the blood's source, "Dammit, it's his spleen, his rib must have nicked it when he fell. He's been bleeding out all night. Nurse! This boy needs surgery now!" Ma ran out of the room to call for more help. The doctor tore his eyes away from Emory just long enough to find mine, "How could you have known?"

"This isn't the time for that," I called, going back to the cabinet and pulling open the glass door. I found the bottle I had seen in my vision and filled a syringe with morphine. Ignoring the doctor's protests, I squeezed the plunger, pushing out the air before injecting it into Emory's arm.

I looked back to the doctor, ignoring the fury in his eyes and watched his hands as they pulled apart Emory's skin and worked their way further inside. "You need to hold this gauze against the wound, do you understand? You are to do nothing else without me. The fact he's not dead right now is sheer dumb luck!" he yelled at me before taking a breath to calm himself. The doctor spoke quietly now, composing his thoughts "Emory has ruptured his spleen. I need you to hold the gauze tight enough to slow the bleeding. I'm going to clamp it off. That is all you are going to do, do you understand?" he said, meeting my eyes for only a second, I nodded and pushed the dressing into Emory, absorbing as much blood as it could. As I held the gauze in place, the doctor pushed two clamps into the wound and pinched off his spleen.

Ma ran back into the room followed by two nurses and a man Pa's age who called out to the doctor, "Dammit, Cy! You opened him in the room?"

"She did!" he called back, nodding in my direction before speaking to me. "Get onto the bed and keep holding that dressing." Turning back to Emory, Cy called out to the other man. "Richard, I need you to scrub in. This boy must have cracked some ribs when he fell and one of them must have torn into the spleen. He's lost a lot of blood, and we need to get him in to surgery now. Susan, Peggy, get the OR ready, we need to close him up now." With that, they flew down the hall, and Cy started pushing the bed out of the room.

"What's your name?" Cy asked, rounding the corner, never taking his eyes off of my hands.

"Alice."

"Alice, never do anything like this again do you understand?" I nodded, pushing harder into Emory as the blood starting flowing faster. We wheeled into the operation room and one of the nurses, Susan I think, pushed me aside and took my place. "Miss, you need to wait outside now, we've got it from here."

My panicked eyes looked for Cy and he nodded in agreement, "Alice, you need to wait outside, I'll send a nurse out as soon as there is news." With that I was whisked into the hallway, the double doors to the operating room swinging shut behind me.

I made my way over to the wall and slumped down against it taking my first real breath since I'd run into the hospital. Pulling my bloodied gloves off, I ran through everything that just happened and I knew I had done everything I'd seen in my vision. As much as it killed me to hurt Emory, I knew it had to be done; there was no other option. I hadn't seen past this moment in the hall so whatever was going to happen next was in Cy's hands. Feeling powerless, I pulled off Emory's hat and wiped the tangled hair from my face before putting it back on my head. What had I just done? Panic set in, but there was nothing I could do now, there was no reason to dwell on it, what was done was done. I took another deep breath before I got up from the floor to find Ma.

With the adrenaline high wearing off, my steps grew sluggish down the hallway, my hands pulling at the handrail to keep my body upright leaving small smears of blood wherever my wrist touched. I looked down at my hands and saw that they were the only clean part of me, the gloves keeping blood from staining my fingers. The rest of me wasn't so lucky, from my wrists to my feet I was stained with Emory's blood. My once pale nightgown was now dyed red; every part of me that touched Emory was covered. Knowing this would only make things harder for Ma, I asked the first person I saw for a change of clothes.

"Nurse, do you think I could…" I barely got out the words before her horrified eyes gave me an answer.

"Oh child! Are you hurt?" I shook my head and she released a sigh of relief. "What's happened to you? Here have a seat and we'll find you a room to get you cleaned up." Her words ran together as she pushed me gently but purposefully into one the wheelchairs that had been abandoned in the hallway. I didn't try to stop her, I wanted to avoid my mother for a little while longer, give her time to compose herself before she saw me again. I grimaced at the punishment I was sure to receive. She knew I would never do anything to hurt my Emory, but seeing me cut into him would surely push that to the back of her mind. I hung my head as the nurse wheeled me into a small room around the corner.

"Here, up you go, watch yourself" the nurse whispered gently, as she tugged me out of the chair and onto the bed. I kept my small legs dangling over the edge, afraid to lay back and slip into the sleep my body so desperately craved.

"Honey, you want to lay back for me? I'm going to get you cleaned up. You think you want to tell me what happened?" the nurse asked, turning on the faucet and filling a small ceramic basin with water before walking back over to my bedside.

"It's not my blood I know what you're thinking. Can we do this quick? I need to get back to Emory." I said, my hands absentmindedly tugging at the hem of my gown.

"Hon, we're not rushing anything. You look like you just ran through hell and back. You want to tell me who Emory is?" she asked as she put one hand behind my neck and the other under my knees to lay me back in bed. I resisted and pushed her hands away.

"Nurse, what's your name?" I asked, my hands holding my head in frustration

"Anita," she answered, walking back to the sink before dropping white cloths into the basin.

"Anita." I called back as she set the basin onto a metal tray with two clean towels and walked back to the bedside.

"Anita" I said again, and sighed this time, "I just want to get cleaned up before I have to find Ma and go back to my brother. That's all. Can we do that?" my eyes silently pleading my case. She lowered her head in acceptance.

"You let me clean you up and give you a once over, and I'll let you get back to Emory and your Ma, but you need to answer my questions as we're working, otherwise I'm going to pull a doc in here, you understand?" I nodded, grateful she wasn't gong to make this any harder than it needed to be. It would be easy to keep the stranger truths from her; Emory always said I had a talent for being a liar.

"Alright," she said, a smile creeping onto her face as she pulled the curtains around my bed closed. "That's better isn't it? Let's get you out of that nightgown shall we?" I pulled the stained nightgown over my head and sat there in my slip, grateful for the first time that Imogene didn't completely undress me before putting me into bed last night.

"What's your name Miss?" Anita asked as she wrung out a wet cloth from the basin and started to clean my arm, her gentle smile bringing even more warmth to her small, tanned face. She was so calm and deliberate in her movements, pulling from years of experience. Despite her age, her face was youthful; her dark hair peppered with silver gave her a look of complete and utter trustworthiness that matched her demeanor.

"Alice" I answered while pulling my slip up my legs and grabbing a cloth from the basin and started to clean off the blood.

"Alice" she said, finding my eyes before going back to work on my arm. "That sounds about right for you. I had a cousin named Alice, always getting into everything all the while. Seems to me like the sort of thing that Alice's just do." I glared at her before going back to work, the smile never leaving her face. "Alice, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"My brother Emory fell out of a tree yesterday, and has been here since last night. I came to see him and saw that he was bleeding underneath. Pa told me once, that things get too tight if you don't let the blood out so that's what I did." I said matter-of-factly, praying she wouldn't press deeper than that.

"I see," she said, wringing out the bloody cloth before starting to clean the underside of my arm. "So you cut him, to let out the pressure." I nodded in agreement. "And your Pa taught you how to do that." I nodded again. "So it seems to me your brother is mighty lucky, you getting here just in time and saving him from something that no one else knew was wrong," she said as her eyes searched my face for anything that might give me away.

"Just lucky I guess. He is my twin after all, aren't twins just supposed to know things like that?" I answered, hoping the old superstitions would be enough to save me.

"I suppose they are," she said, dropping the dirty rag into the basin before picking up a clean towel to clean off my arm. We worked in silence as she cleaned my other arm and I dried off my leg. When we were done and she had given me the promised once over, Anita went to find me a hospital gown, leaving me alone in the room. I hopped down from the bed pacing back and forth trying to figure out what I'd tell Ma. I prayed that the story I told Anita would work for her as well. Ever the practical woman, I didn't think the thought of her daughter seeing the future would go over well. Simple, God fearing people never did like to hear things like that. Hell, it was happening to me and I didn't like to think about it. I sighed in frustration as Anita walked back into the room.

"Here you are, Alice," she said, handing me a white cotton gown "I'll turn around so you can get changed." With that, she spun around, and I stepped back behind the curtain before pulling the stained slip over my head and putting on the oversized hospital gown. I had to wrap the cloth belt twice around my waist to keep the ends from dragging on the floor. I glanced down at my feet and remembered that I'd left in such a hurry this morning. I hadn't bothered to put on any shoes.

I pulled back the curtains asking, "Anita, do you think I could have a pair of…" before looking up and saw her holding out a pair of faded blue slippers. Her eyes smiled as she said, "It's not much, but it's what we got."

"Thank you, Anita," I said as I pushed my feet into the slippers and made my way for the door. Before I could reach for the handle, I felt her hand grab my shoulder.

"Are you sure you're up to go?" her eyes searching again for something my mouth wouldn't say.

"I've got to find my mother. Thank you for what you've done, but I really have to be going." I knew that the longer I stayed, the more anxious my mother would get. I'd already given her enough time to calm down, if I gave her anymore, she'd just get more upset. I smiled weakly as I pushed my way past Anita and stepped into the hall.


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

The sterile, hospital air stung the inside of my nose; it was foreign, so out of place from what I was used to on the farm. I couldn't even close my eyes and escape this place, not with that smell lingering on everything. When I did close my eyes, I kept seeing flashes of Emory playing back in my mind, Emory and that doctor, what was his name? Cy. Cy with his brown hair and his thin fingers, the same fingers that were currently inside of my brother, cutting and pulling and stitching up everything to make him well again. I prayed that Emory would be whole, that I had not done more harm than good. My mind refused to accept that I might never see him again. For reasons unknown, I felt that Emory would pull through, that this was not the end of our time together. I pushed down the churning in my gut and shuffled down the hallway to find my mother knowing that nothing I could say would make this any easier for her. The slippers the nurse gave me slid smoothly on the blue and white-checkered tile, easing me forward, even though my mind wanted to run back to Emory, as if being nearer to him would keep him safe.

I walked down the hall to the front door of the hospital and past the black man in overalls sweeping up the glass from the window I had shattered. I apologized to him, and he simply nodded as I walked past him into the entryway and made my way outside to the already sweltering heat of the morning sun.

The county hospital was a converted plantation, polished white with its carved columns and expansive porch. It was wedged between the maple trees, the only hospital for thirty miles, and it had been built for returning veterans, poor farm boys with dreams of war glory across the sea.

The sun was rising up behind the trees sending slivers of blinding light between the branches and onto the hospital. I pulled Emory's hat off and swept the hair off my neck and back up onto my head before shoving the hat back on. I knew Ma would be on the porch because ever since Elias died, she couldn't stand to be in hospitals if she could help it. With Emory in surgery, I knew she'd leave as soon as she could to escape the memories of this place, memories of her oldest son being taken from her. I found her in a faded, wooden rocker staring somberly at the sunrise, her eyes red from the tears and exhaustion. She just sat there, a shell of a person, the morning sun cutting into her solitude. Her dead eyes rose to meet me as I perched myself on the railing in front of her, my back resting against the rounded column. Neither of us had the strength to look each other in the eye.

"I can't lose another son." she said, her voice solid in spite of herself, as if she held some sway over the outcome.

"You won't." I whispered back, trying to convince the both of us. Ma rested her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

"It's in God's hands now," she stated, her voice finally cracking with grief. "He took one of my boys; he can't take another. He won't take another," Ma said, trying to convince herself she was not alone and that God would protect her.

"Emory is going to be fine," I told her, and the sincerity in my voice forced her to look at me. "It's not like Elias; he has a chance at making it through this. Doctor caught him in time; he's going to be alright."

"Don't you tell me that he is going to be okay. Don't you even look at me," she said while glaring at me, her words cutting into me. "What have you done?" Ma curled her arms around herself, as if to keep from falling apart.

"I had to," I stammered, struggling to find the words to set things right. I pulled my knees to my chest and held onto my legs to try to make myself as small as possible.

"There is no coming back from this!" she yelled. "You cut on him, dammit! You damn near killed him. What the hell were you thinking? What am I going to tell your father? What are you going to tell Emory if he wakes up?" she continued, the words tripping out of her mouth, running together as her fury grew. She was no longer calm and terrified; she had found me to blame.

"I can't," I tried to find the right thing to say, but I stumbled on the words, unsure of what I was doing. "I know I can't set anything right, and that I can't take any of it back. It just needed to happen this way. I don't know why. I wish to hell I did. All I know is that it was supposed to happen this way."

Ma took a deep breath and seemed to calm herself before she said, "I can't think on this now. If Emory wakes up, we'll deal with this then. If he doesn't…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes found mine and my stomach fell to the floor.

I couldn't admit to Ma the pictures I had seen in my head. How could I expect her to understand if I couldn't get my own head around it? Had they only been dreams? My stomach heaved at the thought. The sudden weight of everything was so heavy, pushing me down trapping me inside myself. My head started running through everything, my thoughts coming faster than I could process. I couldn't tell her anymore now. I had to get out, I had to get away. I had to breathe. I jumped off the railing and ran back inside, pushing the tears back. I couldn't collapse. Not yet, not with her watching.

I shoved past the man sweeping glass, and knocked my shoulder into the doorframe to get as far away from him as possible. My skin was crawling, and my heart was racing. What is happening to me? What is wrong with me? I tore at my arms to make it stop, pushing up my sleeves and leaving red streaks with my nails. I needed to get out of everything; out of this hospital, out of this heat, out of this skin. I didn't want to touch anything. I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted with what my body had done to my brother, with what my mind had seen.

As I pushed into the hallway, my ears started ringing and I let out a guttural moan. I couldn't do this anymore. Nothing good came from this second sight. I didn't want it in me anymore. Running into the first room I found, I ignored the stares from the nurses in the hall. The door slammed behind me, and after locking it, I threw Emory's hat from my head, and collapsed down to my knees. My neck tensed as my arms pulled my head down to the floor. "No more," I cried out to no one. "Please," I whispered into the empty room.

I gasped, and once more, I was a slave to the pictures in my mind.

It was the twins this time, strung up by their wrists, chained to a stonewall with torches on either side of them bolted to the wall. Celia was so frail; her dress tattered, her spirit broken. Abram's head hung down to his chest and his bare feet were worn raw; his arms were covered in bruises. Abram had fought to protect his sister. No one that young should have to watch over anyone; they should be the ones protected. I longed to reach out to them, to hold them in my arms, to take them from this prison. I lunged forward but was snapped back by a man's arm tightening around my neck. He bent down to my ear, his sickly sweet breath hovering over my skin and setting the entire right side of my body on fire. "You want to go to them, to hold them in your arms. It is what you want, isn't it?"

I craned my neck to face him, but he twisted me back in place, my muscles tearing as he wrenched my arm behind me to hold me closer to him. "You want them, don't you?" he said, running his tongue up my neck. "You want them so very much."

I tore my head away from his mouth and spat back, "not the way you do. Never the way you do." I jabbed my elbow into his ribs and winced at the pain. His laugh was cold and unnatural.

"When are you going to learn, my dear?" He put his hand on my forehead and pulled me back to him, lifting my body off the ground. "You cannot hurt me. I, on the other hand…." I could feel his sneer behind me, and I struggled against him. "There, there, quiet, my pet." His hand snaked up under the bottom of my gown "Be quiet or we'll find something useful for you to do."

"James, that is quite enough," a woman's voice echoed around me, and my eyes snapped back open. I was in the hospital, and I was alone.


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

It didn't make a difference what I'd done. The past was permanent, forever etched in time; none of it could ever be undone. I couldn't un-cut Emory; I don't even think I would if I could. It horrified me to think that I had acted solely on the vision I'd had. The logical side of my brain didn't want to believe that this could be happening for no reason, that I had seen these things without there being an intended purpose. I sat up and took the first real breath since I'd arrived at the hospital.

I raked my hands through my hair and tried to reason my way through this morning. I couldn't change what had happened, I had to accept that. Everything happens for a reason; I never really believed that, but now seemed as good a time as any to buy in to Ma's dogma. As repulsed as I was by what I'd done, somehow I knew that if I hadn't gotten to Emory he'd be dead now. I winced at the thought of no longer having him, my chest caving into itself as the air punched out of my lungs.

I had these visions because I needed to. They came from nowhere, but they helped my brother. He had to be all right, I knew it in my gut. With my thoughts racing through my head I stood up and stared pacing the room, my feet needing to keep up with my head. I walked over to the window and rested my arms against the glass. My head hung down to my chest and I accepted the situation for what it was. I had seen Emory to save him. I had seen Celia & Abram because I was meant to save them, despite not knowing when that time would come. Everything happens for a reason. It just had to. It was the only hope it had to cling it.

The door swung open behind me forcing a burst of moving air into the stale room. I turned my head to the side to hear who had come in while keeping my eyes to the floor. I didn't want to get into another fight with Ma right now, I had finally gotten things settled and I didn't want to stir it all back up again.

"Look Ma, I hate what I did, but I had to do it. And you know what? I'd do it again because I know I needed to. I don't know if you can forgive me, but I know that this'll be alright." I exhaled feeling some small sense of courage build up in my chest. My eyes still never left the floor. I still wasn't ready to face her.

"You're going to have to tell me how you knew that." My head spun around at the male's voice and my stomach sunk to the bottom of my feet.

"Is he…?" I could feel my heart pounding in my head, the blood boiling in my ears. The disheveled doctor was leaning against the doorframe, using it to hold himself upright. It didn't even look as though he had the strength to hold up his head. His tired, bloodshot eyes found mind before he nodded gently, a smile teasing at the corner of his lips.

I launched myself across the room and into his arms. Emory was okay, my Emory was going it make it. We had made it through this test and come out the other side. We could not be separated. The doctor let out a grunt as I barreled into him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. I cried out in the crook of his neck as the weight of everything suddenly lifted away. All of a sudden I couldn't get enough air in my lungs and my knees started to get weak

He nervously moved his hand up and down my back attempting to comfort me. His weight shifted and he gave a cough to clear his throat as if he wanted to say something, but he never did. He held his tongue and rested his cheek against my hair, as if he was taking some comfort from the closeness. All the blood ran out of my head as I lifted it away from his chest and looked into his eyes with complete adoration.

"Thank you. I can't say…" I paused to catch my breath, trying to find the words. "Just… just thank you." I stumbled backwards and sank to the floor with my head between my knees, all the strength I'd conjured up leaving my body as I relaxed for the first time all day. Tears of joy fell down my face to the tiled floor as manic laughter filled the room. He was alright, my Emory was alright and everything would be okay.

"Alice?" He stared at me, his eyes raking over me, completely bewildered by my behavior.

"Thank you doctor…" I hesitated not knowing his name. My eyes found his and he was taken aback by the manic smile plastered on my face. His eyebrows knit together and he cocked his head to the side to get a better view of the situation.

"Kelly. Cyrus Kelly." He said, after clearing his throat again and smoothing out his wrinkled trousers. "Listen Alice. We need to talk about what happened in there."

"We can talk about whatever you want Dr. Kelly. God damn he's alright." I threw my head back and pushed my arms out behind me to support my weight. I took a deep breath to get a handle on my delirium. "I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you've done. I am forever grateful to you."

"You didn't give me much of a choice now did you?" a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "And don't call me Dr. Kelly, I think we're beyond that point now." Cyrus pushed his hand through his russet hair and stepped into the room closing the door behind him.

"Cyrus then. Thank you." I pushed my palms into the tile and attempted to stand up, my head heavy on my neck, my arms zapped of strength.

"Easy, easy, let me help you up." He thrust out his hand and gripped my forearm before pulling me to my feet. As soon as I found my feet I collapsed into him and threw up all over his already stained clothes.

"Alice? Alice! Stay with me!" I heard his cry attempting to cut through the haze. His voice was strong as I felt his hands on my face trying to slap me awake.

"Alice, you're going into shock, stay with me." All the heat left my body and as soon as he let go of my neck, my head lulled back and I fell into the darkness.

My eyes fluttered open and I rolled over onto my side. Something pulled at my skin as I turned head. I sat up and started to swing my feet over the edge of the bed before I saw the tube hanging down my chest and felt the mask covering my mouth and nose. Using my free hand I loosened the band behind my head and lowered my mask

"Leave that."

I whipped my head around saw Cyrus sitting in a chair at the edge of my bed, keeping his head resting on his arms.

"When was the last time you ate anything Alice?"

"What time is it?" I asked groggily, blinking at the bright light shining in the windows as I tried to remember. My tongue clapped against the roof of my mouth looking for moisture. God, I was so thirsty; the oxygen had dried me up entirely. My head started throbbing from the dehydration.

He lifted his head long enough to look at his watch before resting his head once again. "Half past one. You slept for seven hours, straight through breakfast and lunch."

"Yesterday morning, I think." I'd never gotten a chance to eat dinner last night and I'd skipped lunch because I was too busy with the twins. With everything that happened I never really realized how hungry I was. My hand gripped at the dull ache in my stomach as I settled back in bed.

He chuckled a throaty laugh and raised his eyes. "That's what I thought." Cyrus sat back in his chair and grabbed a stand-up tray full of food that had been perched on the bedside table.

I shot up, pulled the mask off, and snatched the pitcher of water off the tray and took greedy gulp, water sloshing out the corners of my mouth onto the sheets. I was too drained to care. I finished the first pitcher and he brought me another as I pulled a sandwich off the tray and shoved it into my mouth. After I cleaned everything off my tray, I picked up my apple and looked over Cyrus sitting there, watching me eat. "Arn chu gunna eat sushing?" I spit out between bites.

"I already did." He nodded his head towards the empty dishes resting on the windowsill.

I choked down the rest of my apple and pulled my legs up under myself. "What happened? I don't remember anything other than blacking out. How did I get in here?"

"Well you sliced your brother open saving his life, by the way, and then when I went to tell you, you threw yourself into my arms and proceeded to go into shock. You vomited in my lap and blacked out. The fact that you hadn't had anything to eat or drink all day didn't help things." His said matter-of-factly as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. I felt my cheeks flush in embarrassment as I realized what he'd said.

"Look at that, you got your color back." Cyrus smiled and crossed his arms as my eyes opened wide.

"Emory's alright, you're sure he's alright? Can I see him?" I shouted the words, rising to my knees before Cyrus quieted me down.

"He's asleep Alice." He put his hand on my thigh and tried to push me back down.

"I just want to look. I need to see him." My body started vibrating as the anxiety became tangible.

"Sit back, you need to relax and drink some more, but pace yourself this time or you'll throw up again. You're still dehydrated and if you don't calm down you are going to go into shock again." He stood up and walked around the other side of my bed and put the oxygen mask back on my face. "Do you think you can stay calm? I don't want you leaving this bed." Cyrus stood next to the screen that separated my bed from the rest of the room.

I didn't realize what he was doing until he started pulling back the screen, my brother's broken body visible on the bed beside me. "You mean…?"

Emory's bed had been ten feet away from mine the entire time. He had on an oxygen mask like I did, but his eyes were closed. His sweaty hair was plastered to his forehead and I was overcome with the desire to push it out of his eyes. I wanted to kiss his cheek and hold his hand so he'd know that he wasn't alone. Cotton bandages were wrapped around his torso and he has plaster casts around both arms and his left leg. I needed to touch him just to make sure that he was alive, that this was really happening. _He was going to be okay._

I looked longingly at Cyrus and he shook his head. "You need to stay hooked up to that oxygen, you're still too weak."

"Please. Please Dr. Kelly." I begged, reaching desperately toward my brother.

"Nice try Alice, but you can't leave that bed, doctor's orders. I've already bent over backward to put you two in the same room. That's as good as it's going to get." My eyes flicked back over to Emory and I gnawed on my bottom lip. I needed this.

"Move the bed."

"Excuse me?" Cyrus questioned in disbelief. He knit his brows together and crossed his arms across his chest.

"You can move my bed closer to his, and I'll still be hooked up to the oxygen right?" Courage crept back into my voice. I was not going to let this go.

When Cyrus sighed, I knew I'd won. "You aren't to touch anything bandaged understand?"

I nodded vigorously, my breath catching in my throat.

"Hold on." Cyrus grunted as he shoved my bed closer to Emory's. The bed's legs scraped against the floor, the sound ricocheting across the room. An unconscious hiss left my lips, as if it could keep Emory from waking. I pushed myself up onto my knees and hunched over my brother as soon as our beds knocked together.

It was as if I'd never seen him before. He was so fragile, so breakable. Earlier I'd been so fixated on trying to save him that I never really got a chance to see what had been done to him. What I had done to him.

Everything hit me at once, a punch to my gut that suddenly made all of this real. Tears of relief and guilt rolled down my cheeks onto his chest, staining his bandages. In a rush I pulled myself as close as I could to his crumpled body.

"I'm sorry Emory. I'm so sorry." Curling my fingers around his, I pressed my forehead against his temple and let the tears come, whispering my apologies into his ear. How I wish I could take back what had been done. That I could take away some of his burden and make his pain my own.

His fingers twitched against my palm. He knew I was here. "Oh, Emory." The words barely escape my lips.

"I'll leave you two." Cyrus whispered gently before letting himself out of the room

AUTHOR's NOTES

CHAPTER 5 WILL COME OUT LATER


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